


Flirt

by nottonyharrison



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Snark, Steve is so not a blushing virgin, Verbal Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5567869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a total teacher's pet. Although that would be to say that he was a goody good in front of people of authority, which is only a half truth and definitely not accurate when he knows Maria can't do shit about him speaking his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirt

She kind of expected him to be a goody good teacher's pet type. She's not incorrect; he's just more the goody good teacher's favorite who can do no wrong in the eyes of people over thirty-five. You know the kind - the ones who act all perfect and innocent in front of the math teacher, but behind the scenes are selling weed out of their locker, and running the anarchist club from the librarian's office.

Although that would be to say that he was a goody good in front of people of authority, which is only a half truth and definitely _not_ accurate when he knows the person can't do shit about him speaking his mind. I mean, she's certain he wouldn't mouth off in front of the president.

“With all due respect, Sir. I believe our country's greatest threat lies from within its own borders and on the heads of its wealthiest. It's the job of yourself and congress to ensure our people are able to live full and free lives. It's _our_ job to save them from supervillains.”

She tries not to groan out loud in front of the leader of the free world, and instead curls her toes hard into the soles of her black pumps. _Supervillains? Really?_

“And what is your opinion on this matter, Ms Hill?”

She relaxes her toes and instead presses her feet hard into the plush carpet. “My recommendations are included in the report, sir.”

President Ellis glances down at his desk, and then back to her, eyes narrowed. “Forgive me for my candor, Ms Hill, but I don't have time to read every report that crosses my desk from cover to cover. If you wouldn't mind indulging me.”

She pauses for a moment, silently cursing Steve for his lack of tact. “I believe Captain Rogers makes a fair assessment, despite his lack of diplomacy.”

“Well, we don't pay him to be a diplomat.”

She cringes internally. _Don't say it don't say it don't say it dontsayitgoddamnitSteve--_

“Respectfully sir, you don't pay me at all.”

_Oh, there it is. Jesus Christ._

Later, in the car, she has a vague attempt at admonishment.

“Really, Rogers. You need to work on your problem with authority.” She's pulling their armored Audi out of the secure parking lot, foot a little heavy on the gas.

He pulls a pair of sunglasses out of the center console. “You heard the man, he doesn't have time to read reports. I don't have time to sit in meetings beating around the bush.”

“Oh my god, I swear trying to talk some damn sense into you is harder than knocking you on your ass.”

He turns to her with a smug grin and puts on the glasses. She lifts the corner of her mouth in a sneer, despite the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

…

Natasha likes to interrupt her lunch with inappropriate puns. Yesterday it was something about Moses and tea. Maria always keeps chewing her sandwich (or salad, or pasta, or whatever Vision says will be best for her optimum performance), and Natasha always sits directly across from her and stares at her in the most unnerving fashion, until Maria tells her to stop it.

“Sex in an elevator is wrong on so many levels.”

Natasha skirts around the table, and Maria swallows her bite of chicken salad. “Is that another one of your awful puns, or are you trying to tell me something?”

Natasha's suit is unzipped, and she leans over the table. “I don't know, am I trying to tell you something?” Her voice is teasing and a little menacing, Maria takes another bite of her sandwich and doesn't bother to swallow before replying.

“Are you trying to seduce me? Because I mean I love you and admire your tits, but I've _moved on_ snowflake, you should too.” She widens her eyes in mock innocence and chews loudly as she stares at the other woman.

Natasha makes a face, zips up her suit, and sits down. “You have disgusting eating habits, I don't even know why I bother.”

“If you're that frustrated, why don't you just bang Rogers? He has absolutely no sense of self preservation, _and_ you've already made out with him in an elevator.” Her response is flippant, but she can feel every pulse point in her body pounding.

“It was _on an_ _escalator_ , and don't you dare try and convince me I didn't hit it out of the park with Sharon.”

“You didn't hit it out of the park with Sharon.”

“I totally did... Hong Kong wasn't _my_ idea. I'm not a clairvoyant, Maria. What do you take me for? I'm an assassin, not a lonely hearts hotline.” Natasha takes the other half of Maria's sandwich from the plate and takes a bite. “Besides, he could use some practice before being let loose on someone of Sharon's caliber. You should offer to help him out.”

The pounding heartbeat speeds up, and takes a gulp of water. “I don't feel that would be appropriate.” She shoves the rest of her lunch in her mouth and chews slowly. Natasha's mouth curves into a tiny smile, and she continues to leisurely chew on the other half of the chicken salad.

“Inappropriate is the way you stare at his boobs every time you have a conversation.”

Maria leers at Natasha and runs her booted foot up the other woman's leg. “Are you jealous?” Her heart doesn't slow down, but it does stop thumping through her ears.

Natasha breathes out a long, mocking sigh. “Baby, you know I don't have time for relationships.”

Maria lets out a genuine laugh, and drops her foot. She smiles across the table, and Natasha smiles back.

...

The complex isn't really all about private offices and cozy nooks for staff to work steadily away at individual projects. It's more of a collection of large cavernous spaces with various pieces of training equipment, the occasional cleaning robot or glass partitions, and casual meeting spaces interspersed amongst the concrete and stainless steel. Maria's space is a large bench along the wall of one of the conference areas, and isn't much more than a stretch of gleaming metal, a laptop, and an ergonomic chair.

Steve is sitting in the chair, tapping at his phone and spinning back and forth half a turn. He looks up when Maria steps through the plate glass door, and tucks the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

They look at each other for an awkward moment, until Maria's brain engages and she wrinkles her brow. “Do you... need something?” She moves toward the counter and drops her bottle of water on it. A drip of condensation slides down the plastic and onto the stainless steel. She stretches her sleeve over her thumb and wipes the water up, and Steve gets out of the chair and takes a step closer.

“Are you and Natasha still trying to set me up with Agent Thirteen?”

Maria looks up at him, eyes wide with her best attempt at innocence. “I swear, I had nothing to do with that... that was one hundred percent--”

“Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like butter wouldn't melt.”

Maria bristles, and steps around Steve and towards the computer. After a couple of taps of the space bar with no response, she crawls underneath the counter and plugs the wireless charging station back into the wall. “You know, you're no better with your political death wish. I feel like I've been tainted just by association.” She crawls out backwards from beneath the workstation.

“I”m not interested in politics.”

She taps a key again, and the Stark Technologies logo pops up on the screen. “Well that much is obvious.”

“How did I lose control of this conversation?” His voice is closer, and she skims the subject lines of her emails in a vain attempt to appear aloof.

“There was never much of a conversation to have control of.” She opens a message and begins typing a one line reply. The air behind her shifts, and she knows he's standing with his hands on his hips. The Cap pose.

“Are you mad at me about something?”

She wrinkles her nose but doesn't bother to turn and face him. “What? No.”

“You're acting like you're mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” She sends the email and shuts the lid of the laptop.

“Because of the thing at the White House.”

“It would be unfair for me to be mad about you just... being you.” She turns around and her heart jumps at how close he is. She notices his top two buttons are undone, and her eyes skim across the fine blond hair on his chest, before passing up over his lips and settling somewhere in the middle of his forehead.

“You don't like me very much, do you?” His eyes are slightly narrowed, and Maria feels a tingle of excitement run down her spine.

“Jesus, Steve. Of course I like you, what's not to like?”

“It's okay, I don't care if you don't like me. It's not my job to make friends.”

“Are you encouraging me not to like you?” The corner of her mouth turns up in a barely discernible smirk.

“ _No_. Why does every conversation with you feel like guerrilla warfare?” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Look, I just came in to tell you to knock it off with the Sharon stuff.”

“And I told you, that was all Natasha.”

“ _Thank you_ for the clarification.”

“For the record, I don't think long distance is really your style.” Her eyes drift back down to his mouth, and she rolls her lips together and presses hard, willing herself not to do anything stupid.

“Oh my...” He makes a frustrated noise, and she shivers. “I do not need to be coddled, I'm perfectly well adjus--”

She cuts him off with her lips. Steve goes stiff momentarily, before pressing back gently and sliding a hand against her waist. She pulls away but his hand stays, fingertips on her back, thumb on her stomach. “Sorry, I shouldn't have done that.”

“But you wanted to?” His voice is a little raw with shock, and she licks her lips.

“I said _shouldn't,_ not _didn't want to._ What do you think?”

He doesn't respond, instead just grabs her with his other hand and lifts her onto the counter, before sliding his hands up her body and around the back of her head. He doesn't kiss her straight away, instead skimming his lips over her neck and jaw until his open mouth is millimeters away from hers.

“Shit, Steve...” and then her stomach drops as he kisses her. His hands catch in the bun at the nape of her neck, and her head is at an awkward angle, but she doesn't care. His mouth is hot and open against hers, and she puts her own hands against his neck and pulls him harder against her until her nose is pressed up against the side of his, and one of her legs is wrapped around his calf. When they finally break apart her heart is pounding in her hears, and she can feel Steve's pulse firm and staccato against her fingertips. Her breath is ragged, and rests her forehead against his, and she can feel his half hard dick pressing up against her thigh.

“I think you lost control of more than just the conversation.”

“I would blame it on the serum, but you'll probably just check my file.”

She nods, and nudges his nose with hers. “Go out to dinner with me tonight and I promise I won't peek.”

He kisses her again, this time pressing his body flush against hers, and Maria can feel the heat of a blush flowing right down to her toes. It's not until Sam Wilson bursts through the doors at the far end of the next space, fully suited and shouting something about dimensional portals in Connecticut, that they break apart.

Steve runs a finger over his own lips and meets her eyes. “I'll text you when I get back?”

Maria digs her fingers into the edge of the stainless steel. “Finally go the hang of basic mobile technology then?”

He smirks and turns away, shouting a final remark before clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder and striding towards the door.

“You should stop perpetuating stereotypes, it's hurting my reputation.”

_End._

 

 

 


End file.
